


Worth The Wait

by brinnabot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), M/M, but also some fluff, don't read this unless you've seen the movie or you'll be SPOILED, lots of sad Steve and Bucky, mentions blood but nothing super graphic, this is NOT smut in any way shape or form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnabot/pseuds/brinnabot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What conversation led up to the Civil War mid-credits scene? What happens after? A lot of love, a lot of angst, and a lot of Stucky.<br/>(Spoilers for the movie!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Had A Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Starts off right after the fight between Steve, Tony, and Bucky ends and Steve walks away after dropping his shield.

There was nothing left for them here now. Everything they had set out to accomplish just ended up being an intricate ruse to kill each other… But they survived. Maybe it was a miracle or maybe it was luck, but all that mattered was that they made it out (even if it wasn’t necessarily in one piece).

Bucky found it difficult to not drag his feet as he and Steve made their way out of the building. With his remaining arm draped across Steve’s shoulders, he tried his best to stay upright and moving; he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Once they made it back to the entrance of the building, Steve forced the door open with his shoulder. They were hit with a blast of frigid, frozen air as they finally made it outside.

Bucky was exhausted. His legs were shaking from the effort of standing and walking even with Steve bearing most of his weight. He found himself gasping for air. “Wait, wait Steve hold on…” he spoke up after they had only made it a few feet away from the building.

Steve stopped and look down at him, taking a second to move Bucky’s arm and shift their weight. “We need to keep moving Buck, what is it?”

“I gotta… I.. can’t…” as Bucky spoke his knees buckled and Steve was jolted down as Bucky was no longer supporting any of his own weight. Bucky felt himself being slowly lowered down to the snow covered ground, and once he was able to sit he felt his muscles thanking him. His legs stuck straight out in front of him, his right arm resting limply on top of them, and his head drooped down to his chest. Luckily Steve had maneuvered him back enough so he could lean back against the outside wall of the building, giving him some support. 

Steve knelt down next to him and scooped his hand under Bucky’s chin, turning his friend’s face towards him. “C’mon Buck, you gotta stay awake…”

Bucky’s eyelids opened slightly and then drooped back close. Steve took his other hand and gently tucked Bucky’s hair behind his ear to get it out of his face. He was then able to take in just how bruised and bloodied his friend was… Guilt and terror overcame him. Steve wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if Bucky was killed, and he realized just how close that possibility was to becoming reality. He attempted to wipe off Bucky’s face, but stopped as he felt himself tearing up, his breath catching in his throat. Bucky was completely unconscious at this point, so Steve slowly released the grip on his face and let it fall to the side to rest on his right shoulder.

Steve stood up and took a deep breath, still looking down at Bucky. He noticed the snow to the left of him was speckled with red; his shoulder was bleeding, dripping into the snow. They needed to get help and fast.

“Captain Rogers.”

Steve whipped around at the sound of someone saying his name. About 20 feet away was a figure dressed in all black which sharply contrasted with the surrounding snow: T’Challa, who at the moment lacked his mask.

 _What is he doing here?_ Steve peered over at the king but stayed silent.

T’Challa started forward, and as soon as he moved Steve planted himself in front of Bucky. “I won’t let you touch him.” Steve’s voice was low and rough. After everything with Tony, he wasn’t about to let anyone else take Bucky away from him. For a split second he had the urge to reach back and grab his shield out of instinct, but stopped himself once he remembered it wasn’t there. That was going to be a hard habit to break.

“Captain,” T’Challa answered and stopped after walking a few feet, holding up his hands defensively, “I am not here to hurt your friend. I am here to help, and to apologize. I was wrong. I have found the man behind all of this suffering and he will pay for what he has done.”

Steve relaxed slightly at the king’s words, but remained cautious.

“I can help him,” T’Challa spoke up again, his focus now shifting behind Steve to land on Bucky, who was still slumped down on the frozen ground.

After a few moments of hesitation, Steve bent down next to Bucky and slid one arm under his legs and the other behind his back. With a grunt, he lifted him up and steadied himself, then carefully slung Bucky over his shoulder. He turned to T’Challa and nodded without saying a word. 

Following T’Challa through the snow, Steve felt himself tire as they continued to walk, but he pushed on. Luckily, it only took a few minutes to reach the jet that T’Challa had arrived in. The door in the back was already open, so Steve was able to walk right in and set Bucky down on a raised platform. After Bucky was down, Steve slumped onto the floor next to him and took off his helmet, finally allowing himself to feel the deep seeded exhaustion seeping into his entire body. Leaning back against the makeshift bed, Steve took a glance around the inside of the jet and froze when his eyes met with someone glaring at him from across the way.

Zemo sat on the ground, level with Steve, his mouth gagged and his arms tied behind his back. His feet were also tied together, immobilizing him. A fast rush of anger surged through Steve as he stared at the man in front of him. It took every ounce of willpower to not get up and beat him to a pulp for everything he’d done, all the pain he caused.

T’Challa then walked into the jet, making his way to the front to do something at the control panel before walking back over to Steve. “The jet you escaped in from the airport, is it here?”

Zemo and Steve had continued to stare each other down while T’Challa moved around and spoke. As T’Challa waited for an answer, Zemo directed his gaze to Bucky, who’s right arm was hanging off of the bed a few inches from Steve’s face. Steve couldn’t quite pinpoint the emotion that spread across the man’s face, but if he didn’t know any better he would say Zemo felt guilty. Steve broke his concentration and looked up at T’Challa after a few moments. “Yes, we landed not far from from here actually.”

“Good,” T’Challa answered, “Now for the next question: did Stark survive?”

Steve’s stomach instantly felt sick. It hadn’t dawned on him until now what he must be going through… “Yes,” he replied, his voice quiet and almost a whisper, “He’s alive, but his suit doesn’t have power.”

T’Challa nodded, showing no emotion at the news. “Very well, I think my plan should work then.” Before Steve had a chance to ask what his plan was, T’Challa spun around and landed a sharp blow to Zemo, knocking him unconscious. The man fell to the side and hit the floor with a soft thud.

Stunned, Steve quickly got to his feet and looked to T’Challa, hoping for answers. 

T’Challa turned to look back at him. “Stark will take your jet back with Zemo in tow. We will go back to my country…” as he spoke he bent down, grabbed Zemo’s tied up feet and started to walk out the back of the jet. Zemo dragged slowly behind him. Before he exited, he turned back around and focused on Steve. “None of us are faultless here, Captain. I think Stark will see that in time, and I think he will make sure this man receives the punishment he is due. But this is also a chance for us to see the error in our own ways,” he spoke with conviction, something Steve admired about him, “There are medical supplies on the top shelf next to you. Take care of Barnes while I find Stark and deal with this.”

Steve watched as T’Challa exited the plane and then directed his gaze over to Bucky, who was still unconscious. He seemed so peaceful at first glance, like he had unexpectedly fallen asleep after a long and tiring night. But once you looked past the surface you could see just how beaten and battered he was. Blood caked the bottom half of his face, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his jacket was singed and burnt from energy blasts in multiple places. Then there was his left arm, which was completely gone starting mid-way above the elbow. Blood was slowly dripping down the metal from his shoulder and was now starting to pool on the surface below him. Taking a deep breath, Steve took his gloves off and went to retrieve the supplies T’Challa had mentioned.

After setting down the supplies in front of him, Steve unzipped Bucky’s jacket and gently worked it off of him. Bucky was wearing a dark grey t-shirt underneath, which had holes burnt into it over his chest where he was blasted. The fabric over his left shoulder was soaked in blood, making it stick to his skin. Finding a pair of scissors in the med kit, Steve cut the shirt right down the center in order to get to Bucky’s wounds and gently peeled the shirt away from the left shoulder, tensing up as he was afraid to hurt him.

Over the years, Steve had learned ways to tend to wounds, but he still wasn’t an expert. Adding in the fact that it was Bucky who needed his help, who was injured and bleeding on a table in front of him, Steve found himself unable to think straight and suddenly had no idea what to do. After a few shaky breaths, Steve was unable to stop himself from crying. He wiped away the tears that were streaming down his face and bent down slightly to be closer to Bucky, leaning his forehead against his friend’s and closing his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Buck. I’m so sorry…” Steve’s voice was at a whisper so quiet that if Bucky was awake, he would have been the only one to hear it.

Lifting his head, Steve sniffled and took hold of Bucky’s hand. He clasped it in between both of his and lifted it up, supporting himself with his elbows as he leaned down. Bucky’s hand was cold, and Steve rubbed it a bit to try and warm it up.

It was in those moments that Steve found the strength to get back up and get himself together. After he stood, he looked for something to soak up the blood around Bucky’s shoulder and clean it up. It took a few minutes, but Steve was able to clean off most of the shoulder. Bucky was bleeding from the seam between his skin and the metal of his arm… All Steve could think about was how much pain Bucky must have been in. He then tightly wrapped the shoulder up in gauze, putting padding underneath it to help keep the bleeding under control. After he was done, he lightly set Bucky’s shoulder down and sighed. It was all he could do for now.

As lightly as he could, Steve tried to clean off Bucky’s bloodied and bruised face. He went out and grabbed a bit of snow to use in the process and was happy with the results. Then, not wanting Bucky to get too cold now that he didn’t have a shirt on, he found a blanket and draped it over him.

Steve slid back down to his spot on the floor, leaning back against Bucky’s bed and letting his eyes close in attempt to relax. His consciousness quickly slipped away and he drifted off to sleep after a minute or two…

_**Whack!** _

Something slapped Steve in the face, causing him to abruptly wake up with a jump. It took him a few moments to realize where he was, and he had no idea how long he had been asleep. Blinking a few times, he looked around in an attempt to figure out what hit him and saw Bucky’s hand lift up and disappear from view. He followed the hand up as it moved and heard a groan from the bed. _He’s awake!_

Steve stood up so quickly that he became dizzy and steadied himself on the bed. Bucky had his hand to his chest over the blanket, right in the place where he had light burns from the blasts. He was lifting his head a bit to look around, squinting. “Steve..?” He was still groggy and his voice was slurred as he looked up.

“Hey, Bucky, nice to see you awake,” Steve said, smiling slightly.

Bucky let his head fall back down to the hard surface beneath it and covered his eyes with his hand. “Where the hell are we?”

“In a jet, still in Siberia,” Steve answered.

“Why haven’t we left yet?” Bucky asked, then suddenly his hand left his face and he was sitting up slightly to face Steve, causing the blanket to fall away from his chest. He was leaning against his arm on the bed. “I blacked out… Did you carry me all the way here? Did I…” he trailed off and looked down and away from Steve, “I didn’t do anything.. bad, did I?”

“No! No, Bucky you didn’t, I promise,” Steve sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hand over Bucky’s, “You were unconscious… and then we came here, you didn’t do _anything._ ”

Bucky’s shoulders released their tension and he sighed with relief. “Thank god…” He looked up and gave Steve a sad half smile, “Although that doesn’t explain why we haven’t taken off yet.”

Before Steve could answer, T’Challa entered. Bucky turned to see who it was and froze. “Steve, what..?”

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve got up and stepped in between him and T’Challa, holding up a hand to Bucky for reassurance, “He’s not going to hurt you.”

Bucky stayed sitting up, not speaking but also not taking his eyes off of T’Challa.

Putting down his hand, Steve turned to T’Challa. “Is it done?”

T’Challa nodded. “Yes, Stark has Zemo in his custody and will be leaving shortly. And he has no idea where the two of you will be going,” he then turned to Bucky and walked closer to him, “I am sorry for.. everything I have done over the past few days. I see now that I was very wrong about you. All I wish to do now is help in any way that I can.”

Bucky stared back at T’Challa, unable to come up with anything to say back. Almost the entire world wanted him dead, and T’Challa was no exception in Bucky’s mind still… He took what people said with a grain of salt.

After a few deafening moments of silence, T’Challa curtly nodded and walked to the front of the plane. With a flip of a switch, he closed the back door. “Are we set to leave, Captain?” he called back to Steve after sitting in the pilot’s seat.

“All set, let’s get the hell out of here,” Steve called back. And within a few seconds the jet was off the frozen ground and in the air.

Once they were in the air and steady, Bucky pushed himself up and sat on his makeshift bed, legs crossed in front of him as he leaned back against the wall. Steve took a few minutes to take off his uniform and address his own wounds, leaving him in only his under armor and makeshift bandages. When he was done, he walked over to Bucky and noticed him shiver; the blanket had fallen to the ground. He picked it up and draped it over Bucky’s bare shoulders.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, smiling at him.

Steve smiled back and sat down on Bucky’s right, scooting back so he was also leaning against the wall. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a few moments until Bucky spoke up.

“Why is he helping us?” he asked, turning to look at Steve.

Steve sighed and shook his head, looking down at his hands in his lap. “We’ve all made mistakes over the past few days. T’Challa is a good man, he was just… grieving; he was doing what he thought was right, what he thought he needed to do. Just like the rest of us,” then Steve looked up at Bucky, “And that’s what he’s doing now. What he believes is the right thing to do.”

“You could say the same about Stark,” Bucky replied, “And he was the closest to actually killing me. What makes this any different?”

Steve was caught off guard by Bucky’s remark. But he did have a point. “Honestly, Buck… I don't know. I've known Tony for years but I could never quite wrap my mind around his ideals… his motives,” he paused for a moment, “Right now I'm just trying to be thankful that you're alive. I was afraid I lost you back there.”

Bucky didn't answer him. All he did was stare at Steve; their eyes locked. 

Steve searched for a hint of what was going through Bucky’s head; he was dying to know, but he didn't ask, didn't push. 

“I almost lost you so many times when we were younger,” Bucky finally said something, “You were always so sick. I never knew if you were going to wake up or not.”

Steve felt himself getting overwhelmed… Every emotion he was capable of feeling flooded to the surface. “Well you don't have to worry about that anymore. I'm different now. We’re both different now.”

“You're different now in the best way possible,” Bucky suddenly ripped his gaze away from Steve and looked down into his lap, his hair falling from behind his ear and blocking his face, “I'm different in the worst way.” He immediately regretted what he said and bit his lip before looked back up at Steve. “Are we really ourselves anymore if we aren't who we were back then?”

Steve opened his mouth to reply but Bucky continued to speak before he could.

“We never had a chance, Steve. Before the war we were happy… We had nothing but each other and to us that meant we had everything we needed. But we never _really_ had a chance at a normal life, never had a chance to find our place in the world. We were always destined to become whatever we are now… Broken pieces trying to fit back together,” Bucky paused as a single tear fell down his cheek, “I wasn't ever meant to be here. You have a purpose in this new world, Steve. But me…” he trailed off, shaking his head sadly.

Steve’s heart shattered with every word as he listened. A lot of what Bucky said resonated deep down into his core. At times he felt needed, but most of the time he just felt lost and alone. He wasn't ever meant to be here either. “Maybe we never had a chance back then,” Steve said, never letting his eyes off of Bucky, “But… We have a chance _now._ ”

Bucky chuckled. “That's what I love about you, Steve. You're too stubborn, you never know when to walk away from a fight,” he looked over to Steve, “But you can't fight this battle for me. I want us to have a chance, but I'm not sure it's possible for me.” He winced from the pain in his shoulder after he spoke.

Steve found himself speechless and heart broken. “I can't accept that after all this time… us finding each other was just a fluke,” slowly the words came to him, “Look at us, Buck, it's a miracle! I'm not giving up on you!” he continued, his voice getting louder with each word.

Bucky’s eyes had wandered to somewhere else in the jet, but he found himself unable to look away from Steve once he started speaking. Their eyes locked again, and Steve waited a second time for Bucky to say something, anything.

Bucky wasn’t able to get another word out before he broke down into tears, and he roughly covered his face with his hand as he tried to contain his sobs. With each breath, he trembled as everything he felt tried to escape all at once. His body was out of his control, exhausted to the point of breaking. After a few seconds he felt Steve wrap an arm around his waist, gentle but close and comforting, to pull him over so that they were touching. Bucky swept his arm around Steve’s back and around his waist and buried his face into Steve’s shoulder. 

For the first time in over 70 years, Bucky was held in the comfort of someone’s arms. The feeling of being so close to someone, so close to Steve, had been buried so deep inside him that Bucky thought he would never feel that kind of comfort ever again. He melted into Steve’s embrace, grabbing a fist full of Steve’s shirt in a desperate attempt to get even closer to him as his sobs continued. To him, nothing existed outside the two of them in this moment. And for the first time in over 70 years, Bucky didn’t feel alone. 

Steve tilted his head to the side and rested it against Bucky’s as he tucked back some loose strands of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “It’s okay, Buck,” he whispered, “It’s gonna be okay…”

The blanket had once again fallen off of Bucky’s shoulders, landing in his lap, but Bucky didn’t notice. Steve did, however, and as he sat there he decided to take the blanket and wrap it around both of them. Never once did either of them let go of the other while Steve shifted and got them both comfortable. After he settled back down again, he started to lightly run his fingers through Bucky’s hair. It was very calming for the both of them.

Bucky’s breathing had steadied after a few minutes, but he still kept his face hidden from view in the curve of Steve’s shoulder as he cried. As his body started to calm down, he finally noticed how warm and comfortable he was and realized Steve had covered them both with the blanket. The only things that were not covered, and thus could be seen, were their faces. Bucky lifted his head slightly to peek around the jet: T’Challa was still in the pilot’s seat, seemingly unaware of the two of them in the back (or very good at pretending not to notice), and everything was quiet except for the humming of the engine and the wind as they sped through the air.

Steve had his head leaning back against the wall now, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. As Bucky peered up from his hiding spot, he wondered if Steve was asleep.

“Steve?” he whispered.

“Hmm..?” a small hum was all Steve could manage as an answer; he was exhausted.

Bucky paused for a moment to wipe away the remaining tears on his face, then muttered a quiet, “Thank you.”

Without another word, Steve shifted himself over so he was able to grab hold of Bucky’s waist with both of his arms and pull him even closer. They fit together like pieces to a puzzle; Bucky buried himself back into the comfort of Steve’s shoulder and Steve rested his head on top of Bucky’s.

In the few quiet and peaceful moments Bucky had before he fell asleep, he tried to take in everything he could: how he felt, how safe he was, the gentleness of Steve’s arms around him… He might even dare to say that he was happy. This was the clearest his mind had been since… ever, as far back as he could remember. It felt like the moment you were able to take in a breath again after reaching the surface of the water. No more tension, no more struggle, no more holding it all in.

After years of running and a countless number of days fighting, the two soldiers were finally able to take comfort in the fact that they were together and safe after a lifetime apart. They both drifted off into much needed sleep.

\--

Steve was jolted awake when the jet hit some turbulence. Lifting his head up to peer around, he saw that the sky outside was beginning to darken; they had been flying for a few hours now. He yawned and tried to decide whether to go back to sleep or not.

Bucky was still sound asleep, but the two of them had shifted while they were unconscious to a position to where Steve had slouched back against a shelf to the side of him and Bucky was up against Steve’s chest, using it as a pillow. Steve chuckled slightly. Bucky was usually the light sleeper, he remembered. Steve could sleep through almost anything, but Bucky would wake up to the drop of a pin. This time though, Bucky was too tired. Even though he had been on his own for the past two years, Bucky rarely had a night where he slept more than a few hours at a time, and his dreams usually kept him from really getting the rest he needed. This was probably the first real sleep he’s had in decades.

T’Challa then got up from his seat after pressing a button on the control panel and walked back towards them. He saw Steve awake and was slightly startled. “Ah, Captain, you're awake,” he spoke quietly as to not wake Bucky, “You both have been asleep for a few hours.”

Steve nodded. “It's been a long day,” he looked down at Bucky and then back up at T’Challa, “And call me Steve.” He held out his free hand.

T’Challa walked over and shook it. “T’Challa,” a small smile crept onto his face, “I may be a king, but sometimes titles wear on me. It did even when I was prince. It is nice to have a friend who doesn't just see me as a ruler, as my public persona. I thank you for that, Steve.”

Steve smiled and nodded back, “The feeling is mutual.”

Just then, Bucky stirred in Steve’s arms.

“You’ve been flying this whole time, do you need me to take over for a bit?” Steve asked, offering his help since Bucky seemed to be waking up.

T’Challa shook his head. “No, it is not a problem. I got up simply to stretch my legs for a moment,” he motioned to Bucky, “Besides, your friend needs you. He's been through a lot over the last few days. Don't leave his side just yet.”

Steve’s eyes softened, and he nodded a thank you to T’Challa before looking down at Bucky, who had just buried his face deeper into Steve’s shoulder with an annoyed groan.

Before T’Challa turned to walk away, his gaze lingered a moment on the two of them. Over the past few days he had witnessed Steve tear down wall after wall to keep the man next to him safe. They had both defended each other with such passion and vigor… Love like that didn't come around often. It was then that he decided that he wouldn't let anything else tear these two apart. He was going to do right by them, to protect something so strong and powerfully time defying. He smirked for a moment and then headed back to the front of the plane.

“Buck?” Steve whispered, pulling the blanket over Bucky’s shoulders so he didn’t get cold, “Hey, how do you feel?”

“Like death warmed up,” Bucky mumbled back, “But all things considered I think that’s pretty damn good. At least I slept well… How long was I out?”

“A few hours,” Steve replied, “We needed the sleep.”

With a loud groan, Bucky pushed himself up with his arm and leaned back against the wall, keeping the blanket around him. He felt the chilly air on his bare skin when he shifted and tightly wrapped himself up to keep out the cold. Steve saw him wince and heard him sharply inhale, taking a glance down at his left shoulder. Some red had bled through the bandages, outlining the border between his skin and the metal under the gauze. Bucky sighed and moved his head back against the surface behind him, eyes closed and his face tightened in pain.

Steve had tried his best to completely cover what was left of the arm and pad the ripped end so the sharp metal wouldn’t hurt Bucky accidentally, but there were still some sharp edges poking through. Steve stood up to go get new bandages and noticed some cuts on the side of Bucky’s torso; he had hit himself by accident while they were sleeping.

“Here,” Steve spoke as he gathered the supplies, “Let’s change your bandages and get you cleaned up.”

Bucky moved to the edge of the bed and let Steve carefully unwrap his shoulder. He watched and tried to stay as still as possible. While Steve worked, his face scrunched up with concern, making Bucky chuckle. Steve’s concerned face always made him giggle.

“What?” Steve retorted when he heard Bucky laugh.

“Nothing, nothing,” Bucky bounced back, “Thanks for helping.”

Steve stood up and bundled up the bloodied bandages to throw them away. “It looks like the bleeding’s stopped, so that’s good,” he said, grabbing a bottle of alcohol and some cotton swabs, “But I should still take care of these scratches and then wrap everything up again.”

Bucky nodded and watched Steve kneel down next to him on the ground. He prepared himself for the stinging of the alcohol but still gasped when it hit his skin. It burned.

Steve lifted the cotton swab off. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine, Steve, just keep going,” Bucky said, shaking his head. He braced himself again and kept his reactions to the pain to himself. It only took a minute to clean the scratches off, and luckily they weren’t deep and had already stopped bleeding. Steve then started wrapping up Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky once again found himself watching Steve as he rolled the gauze around what remained of his arm. Steve no longer had his face scrunched up in concern, but was now extremely concentrated on not hurting Bucky. The entire process was silent, which was calming and reassuring, but Bucky felt uneasy and unsure deep down. He saw the bruises on Steve’s face, the burns on his clothes and skin from the energy blasts, the scratches and slices that would leave deep scars on any normal person, but not on him since he heals so quickly. While most of Steve’s physical wounds were from the fight with Tony, Bucky knew that there were ones caused by him from the day before. No matter what way he looked at it, Steve was being hurt because of him. So were many other people. And there were dozens out there who were worse than hurt, worse than beaten… He killed people. All because he was so easily controlled by someone who said the right words. It wasn’t something he took lightly. A realization hit him while he let Steve bandage him up...

“Steve, I can’t be trusted,” Bucky said, breaking the silence.

Steve suddenly stopped wrapping his shoulder, stunned, and looked straight into Bucky’s eyes. “Buck, what are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Bucky continued, “No matter which way you look at it, everything that’s happened over the past few days wouldn’t have happened if I had better control over myself.”

“That’s not true,” Steve finished up with the gauze and set it down on the floor next to him as he spoke, “There were mistakes that I made that led us here… There were mistakes made by the people on my team that led us here. It is in _no way_ your fault, especially since it wasn’t actually _you_ killing those people.”

Bucky shook his head and looked away. “I’m not denying that, but the fact is that I still did it…” he paused, “It’s all coming from here,” he tapped his head lightly with his finger.

Steve moved right in front of Bucky, still kneeling down on the floor, and put his hand over Bucky’s heart. “But it’s what’s in _here_ that matters. It’s what’s in _here_ that shows who you really are…” he used his other hand to lightly tilt Bucky’s chin up so he was looking at him again, “That’s what I see in you. And other people will see it too, over time.”

Bucky closed his eyes as tears lightly started to fall. “It hurts, Steve,” he said, his voice shaking, “Sometimes it hurts too much, remembering the things they made me do. And if I can’t be one hundred percent sure that I won’t be able to be used like that again… Maybe it’s best that I be put away until I can be… fixed.”

“But…” Steve started to speak but didn’t finish.

Bucky opened his eyes and looked at Steve again to see that now Steve was crying. “But what, Steve?”

“I just got you back,” Steve said, letting go of his grip on Bucky’s chin and pulling away the hand from Bucky’s chest. He fell back onto the floor, knees up so he could lean forward on them, and covered his mouth while he tried not to cry as hard as his body wanted him to.

Bucky looked down at Steve, eyes unfocused, mouth open as if he was going to say something, but nothing was said. Guilt ripped through him as he watched Steve try and contain himself on the ground. What he was choosing to do was supposed to _prevent_ Steve from being hurt, not hurt him more. Now it all seemed like a no-win scenario.

Bucky got up, feeling dizzy the second his feet hit the floor; he hadn’t stood up on his own since the fight, and after his injuries and blood loss he found the act of standing to be a bit too much to handle. He hastily lowered himself onto the floor next to Steve, slightly falling in the process and landing with a soft thud. Steve looked up in a panic, wondering what was happening. Shifting himself over, Bucky placed himself almost directly in front of Steve with his knees up.

After his initial panic, Steve dropped his forehead to his knees to cover his face and wrapped his arms around his legs. No sounds escaped from him but Bucky knew he was crying. “Steve, we have to talk about this.”

“Why?” Steve lifted his head to speak. His eyes were pink and puffy from crying. “You’ve already made up your mind.”

“You sound angry with me, and you have every right to be, but-” Bucky was cut off.

“It’s not you that I’m angry with, Buck, it’s everything else,” Steve’s words were laced with tension as he spoke, “I’m angry at everything that led to you feeling this way, everything that led to you feeling that you can’t trust yourself. I’m angry that the world has led us here only to tear us apart again.”

“I don’t think that there is anyone else in the world who wants to change the past as much as we do,” Bucky replied, “But the harsh truth, which is something that we have to accept, is that we can’t. It’s something that I’ve struggled with and fought against for the past two years. It tears me apart inside with every waking moment, but I can’t live like that anymore. All I can do is work with what I’ve got, and what I’ve got is a lot of baggage.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to be put back into cryo, Buck,” Steve was pleading with him, “Whatever help you need will be given to you, you’re **_not alone._** ” His hand lifted and gently took hold of Bucky’s face.

Bucky leaned into Steve’s hand as they looked at one another. “I know I’m not. For the first time in decades I don’t _feel_ alone. That’s what having you around does for me,” he smiled weakly as he continued, “But it’s not just a matter of getting help. It’s that until I do, I’m a threat, a danger to everyone around me. That damn book is still out there, maybe in the hands of someone worse than Zemo or maybe with the government, and I don’t like either of those possibilities. I don’t want to be a weapon anymore, Steve. I can feel that part of me inside still, like it’s always lurking in the shadows…”

Steve dropped his hand away as Bucky trailed off, sighing. “I’m being selfish,” Steve said, “Here you are trying to protect people while I…” he trailed off as well.

“If you hadn’t been ‘selfish’ these past few days, as you say, then I wouldn’t be here right now,” Bucky put his hand over Steve’s, which was resting on the ground now, “Captain America has been fighting to protect the entire world since the war, I think it was about time that he thought of himself for once.”

Their eyes met again and Steve was smiling sadly at him, an unspoken thank you for understanding him when no one else could.

“Listen… I know it’s not going to be easy for you. It’s not going to be easy for me either. But this is what I need to do,” Bucky was cool and confident as he spoke, “And if we’re lucky, I won’t be gone too long. Just until they figure out how to get this shit out of my head.”

Steve continued to search Bucky’s face, trying to take in every detail as if he were going to suddenly disappear right then and there. There were a few moments of silence as this went on, and for the two of them it felt like it lasted years. Not that they were complaining… 75 years had passed since the last time they had spent this much time together, and they weren’t going to waste a second. The quiet moments usually meant the most to them.

Lifting up his hand from underneath Bucky’s, Steve tentatively moved to try and intertwine their fingers together. There were so many times throughout the last few days where Steve wanted nothing more than to be as close to Bucky as possible: the urge to grab his hand, pull him into a hug, draw him in for a kiss… But he knew Bucky wasn’t ready. Sometimes it almost physically hurt his heart to keep himself away, but he always came back to the same conclusion: he was extremely lucky to even have Bucky with him alive, safe, and remembering who he was. That was more than enough.

Bucky’s eyes flicked down to their hands for a split second before returning to Steve’s eyes. Steve almost pulled his hand away, fearing he had gone too far, but before he had a chance to react Bucky grabbed his hand and clasped their fingers together before pulling them into his lap. Steve felt Bucky’s bare chest against his arm and his heart fluttered. He softly rubbed Bucky’s hand with his thumb and bit his lip; Bucky wasn’t making it easy to hold himself back anymore.

Steve felt himself leaning in only slightly, testing the waters. “Bucky, I…” he broke the silence, his voice quiet but full of emotion.

Bucky tensed, his heart suddenly starting to beat faster. He started to panic. _Not yet, not yet, what if I don’t come back…_

Steve pulled back and looked away. He shook his head and huffed, realizing what a stupid idea that was. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you, Buck,” he said, chuckling sadly in an attempt to lighten the mood, but the words coming out of his mouth had more weight to them than he intended.

Not knowing how to answer, Bucky sat there pensively, still tightly holding Steve’s hand in his lap.

“Well, while you were unconscious T’Challa said that he could help,” Steve spoke up, wanting to change the subject, “In what way, I’m not sure. Maybe the two of you should talk.”

Bucky looked over to T’Challa, who was still at the front of the jet. He would be lying if he said the sight of the Wakandan king didn’t make him nervous, on edge, but it was something he could hopefully overcome with time and with Steve’s help. A certain amount of paranoia had been the center of Bucky’s life for the past two years; it wasn’t going to suddenly disappear now that he was safe. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah… That’s probably a smart idea.”

Still keeping his hand in touch with Bucky’s, Steve got to his feet and bent down slightly. Looking to Bucky and raising their hands, he pulled him off the floor with one easy swoop. Bucky stumbled forward, his legs still not wanting to cooperate with him, and landed with his hand against Steve’s chest to steady himself. 

Surprised, Steve instinctively caught Bucky by the waist and looked down at him to see if he was alright. Their faces were only inches apart once Bucky looked up at him, his face warped into a goofy surprised smile. They both laughed.

Keeping his grip around Bucky’s waist, Steve shuffled the two of them over to the bed until Bucky was able to sit down, his feet hanging a few inches off the floor.

“I'll take over as pilot for a bit,” Steve said once Bucky was settled, “You two can talk. You gonna be okay?”

Bucky nodded. “I'll be fine.”

Steve lingered a few seconds before he walked to the front of the jet. 

After a quick conversation, Bucky saw T’Challa get up from the pilot’s seat and head towards him. “We never had a, uh, proper introduction,” he said as he walked over, “Maybe we should start over. I'm T’Challa, ruler and protector of Wakanda.” He finished and held out his hand to Bucky.

Bucky smirked. The man certainly was trying, he couldn't deny that. It was endearing. “Bucky Barnes,” he said, taking T’Challa’s hand and shaking it, “Have a seat, please.” He shifted over to make room on his right.

“Steve tells me you are thinking about using a cryogenic chamber again,” T’Challa says as he sits, “I will tell you that my country has the ability to give you what you want, but you must be sure of your decision. It can still be dangerous.”

“Can’t be nearly as bad as what they kept me in before,” Bucky scoffed, “And believe me, I’ve thought about it. It’s what has to be done.”

From the front, Steve heard their voices muffled under the sounds of the jet as he sat down and adjusted in the pilot’s chair. Once he had looked everything over and taken control, he took a second to glance back.

Bucky was smiling at T’Challa as the king talked and motioned his hands; he was explaining something Steve couldn’t hear. Bucky nodded in response, and then the two of them turned their attention to what was left of Bucky’s metal arm.

Seeing Bucky comfortable and open to talk left Steve feeling content. He sighed with relief and turned back around to focus on the jet and their destination. While he knew that once they arrived in Wakanda things were going to be set in motion for Bucky to be taken out of action, for the time being he let himself revel in the warmness he felt surrounding him, and the tension that seeped into every second of the last few days finally started to melt away. Maybe everything really _was_ going to be okay.

\--

“Captain Rogers? Is everything alright?”

A voice broke through his trance and jolted him back to reality. Steve was standing near a wall of glass, looking out over a fog covered jungle, but he wasn't really looking at anything. He had walked away for a minute to get himself together and had found the view calming. His anxiety spiked the moment he entered the room while waiting for Bucky to get there, and he became lost in his thoughts.

“Sorry, yeah, I'm fine,” he replied, turning around. A woman stood a few feet away, one of the Wakandan doctors, holding a glass tablet with the screen open to what looked like a diagram of Bucky’s metal arm. 

She motioned for him to follow her. “Barnes has completed his health evaluation and is waiting for you in here, Captain. Would you please follow me?”

Once they entered the room, Steve was met with about a dozen individuals bustling about, preparing things and checking stats. A quick scan around the room brought him to Bucky, who was sitting on a hospital bed and talking quietly to another doctor. He was dressed in all white; it was simple and comfortable, with pants that ended right below his knee and a sleeveless shirt. Steve watched as he held out his bare arm for the doctor to take a quick blood sample. His left arm had been cleaned up and capped off at the end, as they were unable to create a new one quickly enough before he was to go under. After the doctor was done, Bucky nodded to him and then looked around until he found Steve from across the room.

Steve smiled and walked over to Bucky, shoving his hands anxiously into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey Buck, how did everything go?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Well ya know, I got pretty beat during the fight but it’s nothing too major. You and I both heal pretty quickly, so the cuts and bruises still left over aren’t concerning,” he explained, “Vitals are good, no nerves were damaged when my arm was blasted… I guess I’m in pretty good shape for a wanted assassin.” A small chuckle escaped his lips.

Steve smiled and laughed along with him. It was nice to see Bucky’s humor coming back. “I can’t believe they got this ready so quickly. It only took them a day. And all these people are willing to help…” he trailed off and looked around the room as the doctors and scientists quietly moved about. Then he gulped and looked down at Bucky. “Are you sure about this?”

Bucky sighed. “No,” he said, “Honestly I’m not, but we’ve talked about this Steve. It’s terrifying to think about going back under, but I can’t trust my own mind. It’s what’s best for everyone, including you, even if you don’t see it that way.”

Steve looked down at his feet, feeling sick to his stomach.

“It’s just until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, remember,” Bucky spoke again, trying to get Steve to look at him.

Looking up and into Bucky’s eyes, Steve took in a sharp breath. He had no words left. 

Bucky gave him a smile, trying to be reassuring and positive, but it was almost impossible not to see how sad and scared he was. His hand was shaking, and suddenly he became chilled to the bone.

“Everything is ready now.” 

The two of them looked over in unison to the same female doctor from earlier, who was standing next to the cryo tube. She pressed a button on her tablet and the tube opened.

Bucky’s heart started to beat out of control, to the point where he thought it might burst before he made it over there. Closing his eyes and taking a slow and deep breath in to try and stop his anxious shaking, he got to his feet and turned to walk over to the doctor. He made every effort not to look at Steve as he passed him, knowing that if he stopped to look at him even for a second, he might drop everything and run.

Steve almost stopped Bucky from walking any farther, but decided to just follow him across the room instead. He had tried his best to prepare himself for this exact moment over the past day, but now that it was finally here, he had no idea what to do. He and Bucky hadn't had much time together after they landed, as they both needed medical attention and Bucky needed to prepare for what was about to happen. His entire world was about to be locked away and he had no idea when he would be getting him back. His entire world was about to be torn away from him, was about to be frozen in time until an unknown date. He felt so much all at once that he wasn’t even sure he was feeling anything at all.

“Now I just need you to stand in here and we’ll get you strapped in…” the doctor spoke softly and slowly as she gave instructions to Bucky. Before he had a chance to move into the tube, he felt his arm being grabbed and pulled backwards, making him stumble slightly.

“Bucky, wait, wait!” Steve’s voice cracked as he desperately tried to stop Bucky from leaving. 

Bucky swung around and faced Steve, who still had a strong grip on his arm. Before he knew what was going on, Steve thrust forward and wrapped Bucky in his arms. He had scooped his arms under Bucky’s and tightly squeezed his chest, leaving Bucky stunned for a moment. But once Steve buried his face into Bucky’s shoulder, he couldn’t keep himself from hugging back and wrapped his arm back around Steve’s neck to cradle his head. He leaned his head against Steve’s and closed his eyes, trying not to cry and never wanting to let go.

“Steve…” Bucky whispered, his voice low and coarse, “C’mon, I.. can’t…” He knew that he just needed to go, but every second they held on made it harder to let go.

Steve let go of Bucky just then. He stood in front of him and took his face in both hands. “I need you to know this. We are going to get you out of there, okay?” he said, tears streaming down his face, “We will see each other again. I promise… I love you, Buck.”

Bucky looked at Steve and couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. His breath caught in his throat, every part of his body started to feel cold and numb, the room started to spin… The thought of never waking up again scared him half to death, but he knew that it wouldn’t be the worst thing. He never wanted Steve to be this far gone, because now if he never came back, Steve would get hurt exponentially more. He loved Steve, too. More than any combination of words could ever describe, but he couldn’t get himself to say it.

After a few achingly long moments of silence, Bucky looked down and away from Steve and gently moved the hands off of his face. Without another word, he turned around and stepped into the tube, closing his eyes. He couldn’t bare to see Steve after how he left him.

Straps on.

Tube closed.

_Deep breaths._

Bucky fisted his right hand, which was shaking again, and tried to tune out the muffled sounds of the world outside his glass walls. It wasn’t easy, but after only a couple seconds inside he felt everything go cold, and then there was nothing…

\--

He was gone.

Steve watched as the air froze up around Bucky, preserving him in time. But he couldn’t bare to look at him anymore after the process was complete and hastily walked away and out of the room.

Going back to his spot at the window, he lifted an arm above his head and leaned against it to gaze out the window. He felt nothing. He felt empty, like nothing that just happened was real. Maybe the next morning he would wake up and they would still be on the jet.

“Steve?” T’Challa’s voice sounded from behind him.

Steve turned around and shoved his hands in his pockets again. “Listen, I wanted to say thank you for all of this…” he said, “I know that he’ll be safe here, taken care of.”

T’Challa nodded and walked over to stand next to Steve, gazing out the window. Steve followed suit.

“I know this is not easy for you, my friend,” T’Challa said, “But Barnes made his choice. And to respect that choice was of most importance after his lifetime of horrors. You know this, deep down.”

Steve nodded in response.

“Your friend and my father were both victims. I cannot bring my father back… But being able to bring one of them peace is something I am able to do,” he looked over to Steve, “We will find a way to help his mind. I promise you.”

“You know, if they find out he’s here-” Steve was cut off before he could finish.

“Let them try,” T’Challa interjected, saying it almost as a challenge. He smiled as Steve looked over to him. “I will leave you now. But please do not hesitate to ask if you require anything. You are our guest, a first for my country, but know that you are still very welcome here.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you.”

T’Challa then turned and left, leaving Steve by himself. The slight humming of the hospital behind him carried on as if nothing had happened, and he found himself feeling out of place now that he was alone.

Steve found himself without a home once again. Ever since he came out of the ice, his life was a series of motions that took him from once place to another, one fight to another, one memory to another. It was like his life was laid out for him to watch, both past and present. Peggy was gone, his team was fractured apart, and now Bucky was just out of arm's reach. He was lost. But waiting patiently wasn’t an option for him, and so he set out to do the only thing he knew had to be done: get his family back.

Standing up tall, Steve took a deep breath and looked back into the room behind him. Bucky was there, peacefully still in his own little world, and most importantly he was safe. And with one last glance, he turned and left. He had a job to do.


	2. Good Morning, Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years after the events in Civil War, Bucky Barnes is woken up. For everyone else, about two years have gone by. For Bucky, everything was as fresh in his mind like they happened only days ago. It's time to decide how he's going to heal, if at all. Things are still a bit messy with all the Avengers, but things slowly start to come together (it's not just Bucky who needs to heal, is it?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends this small story, but begins another! This will start my story titles I Don't Want To Forget linked below. Thank you for reading and enjoy!

After being numb for so many months, being able to feel again was almost too much to handle. Really it was just a different kind of numb, where your senses overload to the point where your body just rejects everything, trying to protect itself from burning up after god knows how long in the cold. The big difference now was that you felt real again. Or as close to it as you could be after being literally frozen for over two years.

This was the struggle Bucky Barnes was faced with. Being woken up from cryo-sleep was almost indescribable. He had experienced it more times than he would care to count, and he tried his best to forget the sensations that came along with it. Those feelings always led to him being strapped down, prodded, electrocuted… wiped from existence. He would have been lying if he said there wasn’t a part of him that hoped he wouldn’t wake up each time he was stored away like just another tool in their terrifying array of weapons. 

But almost 80 years later, here he was. Being woken up once again, feeling terrified once again. The terror set in before he could even feel enough to move most of his muscles. His entire body screamed at him to run, to fight his way out, but after a few moments of terror the helplessness set in. The part of him that was still _him_ remembered that he had tried this already the last time they woke him up: He couldn’t run. He couldn’t fight. All he could do what wait.

Something about this wake-up call was different…

(( To continue further, please go here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8200511/chapters/18786353 ))

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be Bucky waking up again and their reunion


End file.
